By the time we finished, he’d satisfied me in every way, though our ice cream had melted into sticky caramel puddles. I stirred mine, forming a soft-serve pyramid, which I swirled and licked from my chilly spoon. We cuddled on the sectional couch, our feet in front of us while we watched our show. I stole happy glances at him, trying to make it feel real.
Just before midnight, we turned off the TV and Christopher whisked me off to bed for a second round of love-making. A perfect start for 2018.
. . .
On New Year’s Day, in the afternoon, we strolled around the neighborhood, enjoying the crisp winter weather. There was less snow than the mountains with only a skiff remaining on the ground, and it wasn’t as cold, but it was brisk enough that we returned with rosy cheeks. We didn’t discuss a date for our wedding, but I was content to be engaged for a while—to enjoy the feeling. There was no need to rush. Maybe we could get married next year at New Year’s. We’d be able to refer to each other as “my fiancé”.
When I’d gotten married before, Eric had planned everything and had chosen a date less than a month away. Everything had been rushed. We’d been married at City Hall and kept it secret until afterward. The day had been flat and unreal without family.
I didn’t want a huge fancy wedding, but this time I wanted something that Christopher and I could make special. The other benefit of waiting was that it gave us time to smooth things over with my sister and his brother.
When we got back to the house, Christopher had a voicemail from Brandon. We’d shared our joyous news with family this morning—calls to parents, Brandon via voicemail, and Meghan by text. Christopher’s eyes lit up and his face became more animated than I’d seen all day. As he listened to the message, his good humor faded and his fist clenched.
“His memory seems to be caught up.” Christopher placed his phone on the counter. He glared at it with suspicion, or like it was poisonous.
“What do you mean?” I came around the table so he could hear my quiet voice.
“It means his research is up to date. He knows it’s 2018. Scorpion venom instead of rattlesnake. He asked if we’d taken anything from his place, specifically a jar from the fridge. He’d better not start experimenting on himself again.”
“Look at the positive side. He remembers more.” Interpreting the closed look on Christopher’s face, I said, “He didn’t mention our news. At all?”
He shook his head. His mouth remained flat, and I read his disappointment.
“What are you going to tell him about the jar?”
“Nothing.”
“It might be our chance to inject him with the antidote.”
“Don’t think he cares about the antidote. Says his mind has never been clearer.” Christopher’s jaw tightened. “He enjoys being… unemotional.”
“It sucks that he didn’t call to congratulate us, or even to talk to you. Just to say that he wants his stuff back. That’s thoughtless. That part of him hasn’t improved. Remind him about the break-in last fall. He can draw his own conclusion.”
“I thought he’d improve,” he said. “I thought maybe by now he’d want to try hanging out, get to know me again. Come for dinner or go for beers. Some sign that I matter.”
My heart went out to Christopher. He sounded defeated. I hugged him, hard. I couldn’t make up for his brother’s insensitive actions or how his brain had been compromised, but at least I was here. We’d get through this together.
“We have nothing to cook for dinner tonight.” He squeezed and let go. He reached for his phone and keys on the counter. “I’m going out.”
“We were going to order pizza. We can shop tomorrow. It’s a holiday, lots of places are closed.”
“I need something to do. When I’m around you, I don’t like being angry. I need to blow off steam. Loud music in the car, slam the doors, buy red meat. I’ll be fine.” He tried to smile, but his heart wasn’t in it.
I nodded. Christopher spent all his time with me. He was gentle and sweet, but he missed his brother and he needed time alone. Now that we were home, we could pursue our regular hobbies, like my reading and his video games in his office. In the cabin, we’d been together even more than usual. It wasn’t a problem, but he needed a break.
An unreasonable spike of fear ran through me and, for the first time in ages, I imagined the brick wall. Christopher didn’t seem to notice. I didn’t want to be alone, but it was silly to feel unsafe in the house. Something bad could happen if he left home, though that was silly. He referred to it as our house and had treated it like it was our place for months. I still owned my townhouse, but planned to sell it soon. It was scheduled to be repainted and re-carpeted. We’d salvaged more of my belongings, but I didn’t want to live there and Christopher understood.
After the surprise proposal, this was my home in truth and I wouldn’t need to find a new place. Here, there hadn’t been problems with Eric or Real Tech. I was safe.
“You go. Blast the stereo. Go for a drive. Buy giant steaks. I’ll be fine.”
“Thanks for understanding, Lizzie.” He kissed me. “I don’t know what to do about my brother, and I need to clear my head. I’ll be back in about an hour. Anything special you want me to pick up?”
“More ice cream,” I said, arching one eyebrow.
He attempted a better smile. “Of course.”
The car engine roared to life outside. From the window, I watched the rosy glow of his taillights as he left.
